So, clearly I am a brat. Read the description. A moody bitch at that. What creates my rough exterior is a rough interior. I was walking into Stages West a few days ago with some friends. Blakers and I passed through the shopping area into the boots, as soon as I turned around some old hag was looking at me the wrong way. It irked me. Let me tell you, you do not look at a country brat the wrong way or all hell will break loose; mark my words. I, of course, brushed it off cussing under my breath. Not ten minutes later the SAME chick was dirty looking me again. Oh hell no. I yelled across the room, “Um, EXCUSE you. I know I look damn good, but you best check your eyes before I come over there and mace your ass.” She was speechless, completely ignored the fact that I was talking to her. I ran up to her, snatched her arm and snapped in her face, “Do I need to tell you again? Because it’s so worth repeating.” She STILL didn’t say anything. Who the hell does she think she is? The next thing I knew I was told that she was blind……………. Are you freaking kidding me?
-Country Brat Problems
Source: Countrybitchproblems
